bubblegum princess

chapter sixty five

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒
welcome to the final show;
SARADA BEING CUPID !
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

𝞋𝞎

Going home in an awkward silence was not on Sarada's list of preferred endings for the day. And the way Seiren seemed to deliberately avoid giving her any attention was akin to sinking into an endless pit of discomfort. Sarada hated this feeling, the suffocating void of unspoken tension.

"Are you seriously going to keep ignoring me?" Sarada pouted, her voice edged with a mixture of guilt and exasperation as she tried to match the brisk pace of her sister, who was naturally walking much faster than her.

Seiren briefly cast her a sidelong glance but immediately averted her gaze, her face an unreadable mask as she kept walking.

Sarada groaned, her patience wearing thin. She reached out, grabbing Seiren's wrist and pulling her to a halt. The two stood still under the faint glow of streetlights on the empty road, the air between them thick with unease.

"Look, I'm sorry," Sarada began, her voice softer now, tinged with worry. Her dark eyes searched Seiren's face, desperate to meet her gaze. But Seiren kept her head turned, her expression distant.

Sarada clenched her fists briefly, then sighed. "I didn't know what came over me, alright? But I swear to you—I do not like that idiot!" she exclaimed, her frustration bubbling over. Her voice carried an honesty that made it crack slightly, her emotions laid bare.

For a moment, Seiren didn't respond. The silence felt deafening as Sarada's words hung in the air. Sarada watched her sister's profile, the way her brows furrowed ever so slightly and her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Sei, come on..." Sarada's voice softened again, almost pleading. "You're my sister. I hate this—this weird tension between us. Can we just—can we move past this?"

Seiren finally let out a small sigh, her shoulders sagging slightly. She turned her head, her eyes meeting Sarada's at last, though her expression still held a tinge of hurt. "It's not just about you liking him or not, Neechan," Seiren said quietly. "It's... it's the way you keep putting yourself in the middle of things without thinking how it might look. Or feel."

Sarada blinked, her brows knitting together as realization dawned on her. Seiren's tone wasn't angry—just tired. Tired of feeling invisible. Tired of being overshadowed.

"There are times that I feel so helpless..." Seiren admitted softly, her voice almost swallowed by the stillness of the night. She took a few slow steps toward a nearby bench, the warm glow of the lamp post above casting a gentle light over her figure. She sat down, her movements deliberate, as though each one carried the weight of her unspoken emotions.

Sarada followed, hesitant but with ease, though she kept a respectful distance. She knew her sister needed space right now, especially with how overwhelmed she seemed.

For once, Sarada said nothing. She didn't push or prod, sensing that Seiren needed to speak without interruption.

"You know that..." Seiren began again, her voice quieter now as she stared down at her hands clasped tightly on her lap. "I really can't stay much longer." Her words came out in a near-whisper, barely audible over the faint rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.

Sarada's hands curled into fists, gripping the fabric of her dress tightly as her chest tightened at Seiren's words. She hated how fragile her sister's voice sounded, like the faintest breeze could shatter it entirely. She knew that Seiren was right, no matter how many times she protests of them being apart, Seiren needed to get better.